The Best Laid Plans
by DeniseV
Summary: Rodney is not coping well after his rescue. Episode tag to Grace Under Pressure.


**In the Jumper**

The shivering had overwhelmed him once they had started moving. No matter how much his brilliant mind tried to control it, his body seemed to have other ideas. He realized there was a good chance he would be on the floor soon if he didn't re-take his seat. He also knew that he still risked hypothermia if he continued to just do nothing like he was, but just getting himself over to the bench seat had turned into quite a chore all on its own.

He sat, feeling colder and more miserable with each passing moment. Colonel John Sheppard and Radek Zelenka were busy getting the jumper to a safe depth, away from 'Lassie' and away from the ocean floor. He knew that John needed Radek right then, but he was starting to worry about his own well being the longer he was left alone.

This impromptu voyage to the bottom of the sea had proved once and for all that he was not as smart as he thought. Rodney felt like he had been punched in the gut by that revelation. There was no doubt that this blow would prove to be a far greater injury to his soul, with greater lingering effects, than any physical pain he would endure because of this ordeal.

The physicist was beginning to feel drowsier now. Rodney McKay knew that this was a bad sign. He knew there were things he should do to help stave off hypothermia. He'd swallowed a fair amount of the murky seawater as well…who knew what nasties he'd ingested from that.

He lay on his side on the seat in the rear of the jumper, curled up and trying to warm himself. He could vaguely hear conversation up front, but it was beginning to sound more like white noise mixed with the background hum of the Ancient vessel that would soon, he hoped, carry him to the comfort of Dr. Carson Beckett's infirmary. It was a place he normally dreaded being stuck in, but it shone in his mind as a comforting beacon at the moment. He laughed to himself as he slowly realized that it would be impossible to warm up in his soaked uniform, though it became less funny as his body and mind seemed unable to grasp that he should get up and actually do something about it.

Something shook him, hard, and Rodney realized that someone had been attempting to wake him, probably for some time. He opened unbearably tired eyes and tried to focus. The colors in the jumper coalesced to a prism rainbow, the tears in his eyes making it impossible for him to see anything other than the weird color palette before him. He felt something dry wiped across his face, soaking some of the tears along with the chilled moisture from the ocean water. He opened his eyes again, this time to find Radek leaned over him, looking worried.

"Thank god. Dr. Beckett, he is awake."

Rodney looked around, trying to find Carson. Radek had just talked to him, right? Were they at the infirmary already? Rodney sighed in relief as he closed his eyes once again.

Another shake of his shoulder brought him back to consciousness. "Rodney, you must take off your clothes." Radek instructed.

"Cars'n?" Rodney asked, barely able to get the name out through the constant and uncontrolled shaking.

"He is in the control room, Rodney," Radek Zelenka answered in frustration. "You need to remove those wet clothes. You are freezing."

"Where 're we?" Rodney asked in confusion.

Radek tsked as he started to remove McKay's clothes himself. Rodney heard more mumbling, but try as he might he couldn't understand a word. He was certain now that it was Radek; he must be speaking Czech. This was his opportunity. He needed to make clear how wrong he had been…how very wrong. Why had he thought no one would come? He needed Radek to understand.

"Sorry, Radek."

Zelenka looked at his friend and colleague. "Why are you sorry, Rodney?" he asked as he removed the wet clothes and replaced them with blankets.

Rodney drifted off again, hopeful that things would seem better after a little sleep.

**In the Infirmary**

"You're sure he's okay?" John asked worriedly as Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon and Dr. Zelenka gathered around Atlantis' chief medical officer.

"He will be fine. As I said, Dr. Zelenka getting him warm and starting the IV and the warmed oxygen going were all critical." Carson nodded at the scientist. Radek, who had accepted the gratitude of the entire group somewhat reluctantly already, nodded back.

"Dr. Z did a great job down there," John smiled momentarily through the worry. He slapped Zelenka warmly on the back. "We may want to consider him for our next team, Elizabeth."

"No!" Radek said firmly. "I helped save Rodney because he is my friend…and so that this _never_ happens." The scientist visibly trembled at the thought.

John massaged his back affectionately. "I was kidding, Radek. Thanks for what you did down there. You kept it together…that's what we needed. Rodney…_we_ all owe you one."

Carson continued. "We'll be keeping him here and continue warming him up. That will go probably into tomorrow. I'm watching for fever or any sign of pneumonia from any of the water he ingested. So long as there's no sign of trouble, he'll be released to his quarters by the end of the week, where he will rest for the remainder of next week. His body's been through quite a shock, and it was a mighty blow he took on the head. He needs time to rest up from that. He won't be back on duty for nigh on three weeks at best."

"I will make sure the science minions leave him in peace," Radek offered.

"Thank you, Dr. Zelenka," Elizabeth replied with a warm smile. The civilian leader of the expedition was unapologetically relieved at the day's outcome. The results could have been so much worse; the loss of Griffin had been bad, but Rodney….

Teyla, Ronon and Elizabeth left the infirmary. Radek continued to look with concern at the resting and warmly bundled Rodney McKay.

"You gents should go get some rest," Carson said as he patted Rodney's leg. "He'll be out for a while," he added as he departed to look in on another patient.

John stared at his friend lying quietly. He looked across the bed and saw Radek doing the same. John frowned and asked, "Is something wrong, Dr. Z?"

Radek looked up at John Sheppard. "I'm not certain. Rodney said something…strange to me in the jumper."

John walked over to Radek and nodded toward the door. They walked together out of the infirmary and John asked, "What did he say?"

"He was a little delirious, I think. I guess. Must have been, right?" Zelenka surmised, his anxiety growing as he spoke.

"Just tell me what he said," John insisted, trying to remain patient.

"He said, 'Sorry, Radek'," Zelenka answered.

John frowned, but then raised his head in not-too-surprised recognition. He nodded at Zelenka and said, "Thanks, Radek. We'll figure out what he meant when he feels up to talking." Radek nodded as well. "Go get some sleep," John said to the scientist. "And thanks again. Good work out there." John turned back for the infirmary door.

Radek appeared ready to leave but hesitated. His decision made, Radek called, "Colonel?" John turned back to Zelenka, eyebrow raised in question. "You know, I hear you all say these nice things to me. And I know things have not been smooth sailing for Dr. McKay lately," he added, without commentary as to the whys and wherefores of McKay's rough ride, "but Rodney has done more, far more, and received less thanks." Radek stared thoughtfully at John. "This needs to change," he finished.

"Yeah," John agreed, looking toward the door beyond which Atlantis' chief science officer lay recuperating. "Yeah, it does." John smiled sadly at Zelenka, and then headed back into the infirmary.

Carson intercepted Sheppard before he made it to the chair next to Rodney's bed. The doctor stopped the colonel's forward movement with a firm hand to his chest. "Where do you think you're going, Colonel Sheppard?" he asked sternly.

"I just thought I'd…"

Carson Beckett cut him off. "You thought wrong. You need some sleep. As I said, he's going to be out for a long while."

"I know. I just…I'd like to sit with him for a bit," John explained, hoping that the pleading tone didn't sound as desperate to Beckett as it sounded to his own ears.

Carson eyed John with unease. "Is everything okay? Is there a problem I should know about?"

John looked at Rodney McKay for a long moment before turning a troubled face to his friend and the expedition's CMO.

"I don't know." John paused, shook his head and waved his hand back and forth. "Nah, scratch that. I don't think so." John could see the skeptical look from the physician. He knew he'd probably opened up a can of worms here with Carson Beckett – the doctor was a hound dog once he got on the scent. "I just want to sit with him for a while," he added with a sigh.

Sheppard knew he was in hot water with Beckett for the obvious evasion. "Ten minutes," he ordered, his clipped answer and sour demeanor leaving nothing to the imagination about what he thought of the conversation.

John sat in the chair next to Rodney's bed and leaned forward, looking closely at his friend's face. His color was much closer to normal now, and the wracking chills were gone, leaving a man in a seemingly peaceful sleep. But John knew that the vision before him was simply an illusion. The sleep was concussion and medication-driven, nothing more. McKay's comment to Radek, whether due to delirium or otherwise stress-induced, spoke volumes to John Sheppard; it said that the man before him was anything but at peace.

"What's goin' on, McKay?" John asked softly. He watched the quiet man sleep. "Yeah," John added, continuing his monologue with himself. "That's exactly it, Rodney. You've been too quiet. Something's up and you're gonna tell me what it is."

John stood and leaned over his friend. "Whatever's bugging you, McKay, you can tell me." He leaned closer and placed his hand in a warm gesture over Rodney's heart. "I'm your friend, damn it," he said, fighting to control his emotions and to keep his voice down. "You should know that you can tell me," John added quietly. Regretfully.

**On the Balcony**

John saw Rodney in the wheelchair out on the balcony. Carson had called him to come talk to their ailing friend. Rodney had been left there by one of the nurses who Carson said had been threatened with physical violence by one Rodney McKay. Beckett had assured John that the threat had been in jest, but the underlying problem was what Carson was looking for help to solve.

Before John had made his way to Rodney, he had stopped by to talk to Dr. Carson Beckett.

"I am worried about him, John," Carson admitted as he leaned against a wall in his office.

Sheppard looked at the doctor and nodded sadly. "Me, too." He took the seat that Beckett offered him.

"He's depressed, and he's terribly upset about something," Carson continued.

"Wouldn't you be?" John challenged. "He practically watched another person die out here."

"I'm not saying that it's not justified, John."

The colonel ran his hands over his face and up through his hair. It was frustrating. He felt stymied. He knew he was missing something, but he also knew who he would need to talk to in order to make headway on this puzzle. He was good at puzzles, damn it. He could solve this. He needed to solve this.

"Yeah. Sorry, Carson. What else should I know before I jump into this fire?"

Carson smiled, for surely that was exactly what he was asking of the Air Force colonel.

"His nightmares have been brutal, as you know." And did John know. He had been witness to a number of Rodney's awakenings over the last few days. It was easy to see why McKay wasn't feeling any better; he wasn't getting much in the way of sound rest.

"From what little I've been able to understand he's blaming himself for Griffin's death. He spews a lot of gibberish on numbers…it's hard to understand. He seems to be reliving his experiences down in the jumper. Increasing signals, lowering levels. He's mentioned a metal casket, hypoxia. It had to have been terrifying for him." Carson shook his head. "His claustrophobia." He sighed in frustration. "As I said, much of it isn't understandable, but it's tearing him up. He won't speak to Kate."

"No." John understood that.

"You say that as though he shouldn't," Carson said, seeming to take offense on his colleague's behalf.

"Well, no offense intended, Doc, but you know how Rodney feels about that stuff."

"Yes, well, with some thanks to your influence, no doubt," Carson returned.

"Look, I've got more important things to do than this," John said. His motivation to get to his friend and see what he could do to help overwhelmed any desire to remain cordial on this topic. He rose from the chair and stood opposite Beckett.

The two men stared at one another, but Carson's instincts and sensitivity to both of his friends' adverse feelings about the psychiatrist told him to let this one go. It was in Rodney's best interest, and that was his top priority as both Rodney McKay's medical doctor and his friend.

"Despite your shared feelings on the subject, my best advice is to get Rodney to talk about what he went through. It's the typical psychological mumbo jumbo that you've heard before, Colonel. He's not doing himself any favors keeping it in. Indeed, it's hurting him both mentally, manifested by his nightmares and his depression, and physically by not getting enough rest. He's suffering from a pounding headache almost 24/7, you know that, right?"

"I know."

"Something's eating at him. He'll open up to you."

John Sheppard nodded his head faintly throughout Carson's explanation. It all made perfectly obvious sense. And wasn't that the problem with psychiatry? Common sense takes you a long way to a cure. Unfortunately, that only works if you have the sense to recognize it…if you haven't worked yourself up into your own little hurricane of hurt. The eye of Rodney's hurricane was getting dangerously quiet.

"Let me go see him." John started to leave. He turned back to Carson and said, "I'm sorry about what I said. You're right. Shit, Kate's right on this one, as much as it pains me to admit it." Carson saw no light in the crooked grin John offered. But he did feel the sincerity of the apology.

The short walk down the corridor to Rodney's current location had provided little time for John Sheppard to contemplate his next move. He would have to do this as he had performed so many missions in his brief time in the Pegasus galaxy: by the seat of his pants. Except for the one grand faux pas of the expedition, waking the Wraith, his instincts so far had been true. He didn't want to think about the consequences if he failed this most important of missions.

John opened the door and walked toward his friend, setting the chair that he'd grabbed along the way down in front of him. Rodney appeared to be dozing, his left hand holding his head up as he leaned back in the wheelchair. He knew that Rodney could use the rest, so he eased himself as silently as possible into the chair and waited for his friend to wake up on his own.

The warm afternoon breeze made him drowsy and he fell into a light doze, always aware that he wanted to be there for Rodney when he awoke. It felt good to enjoy the warm, sunny day, though John felt niggling apprehension about what he would say to McKay once he did wake from the much-needed nap.

A noise woke him from his unexpected but welcome rest. John quickly looked to his friend. Heavy, accelerated breathing told Sheppard that McKay was dreaming. His friend visibly shivered, despite the heat of the afternoon. A high-pitched 'No!' followed, and then Rodney grabbed the arms of the wheelchair, the white-knuckled grasp an obvious indication of distress. Rodney's eyes shot open and he pushed back in the chair, the secured brake the only thing stopping the chair from tipping.

John reached his hands across and placed them over Rodney's.

"McKay, it's all right."

Rodney blinked several times, still breathing fast and glanced around him, peering back and forth as though seeking something. Something specific. He settled on John's face and then closed his eyes with a grimace, pulling one hand from under Sheppard's and leaning his forehead into it. He rubbed his aching head and was unable to suppress the quiet moan of pain.

John looked on with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Rodney kept his head down and sighed dramatically. "What are you doing here?" Rodney asked. There was a mix of annoyance and surprise in the man's tone that only made John Sheppard more aggravated.

John sat back in his chair. "Rodney, we need to talk."

McKay looked at his team leader with disdain. "What, I refuse to play nice with Heightmeyer so Beckett sends in the big guns?" They looked at each other, the beginnings of a challenge clearly written on each other's face. Rodney caved first, but not the way John had hoped.

"Fine. What do you need to talk about, Colonel?" The attitude oozed smug and condescending…pretty typical Rodney McKay. And as classic a case of attempted misdirection as John Sheppard had ever seen.

"Well, Rodney, that's not the way it's going to work. And I know for a fact that you're smart enough to know that. So how about we cut the crap and you tell me what's goin' on with you. Oh, by the way, thanks for lopping me into the same category as Heightmeyer." A little strategically placed guilt never hurt anyone, John thought, though the look now on Rodney's face told him that he might have been a little rough on his still recovering friend. But Rodney, true to form, quickly helped John put any guilt that he might have felt way on the back burner.

"Cut the crap," Rodney retorted in a perfect impersonation of John's laid-back speaking style. "That's funny," he stated, quickly reverting to the snappy, cynical Rodney McKay style known and either loved or hated by all; there was no in between when dealing with Rodney when he was this way. At least if he had been expounding on a theory to save Atlantis, or some other scientific discourse, you could forgive the snarky, conceited egotist his style since his substance more than made up for any perceived lack of grace. But just sitting with the man, without the comfort of his genius revelations, this life lesson was pretty simple: you learned to love him, or you didn't.

Rodney continued. "Hysterical, in fact, considering how full of it you are so much of the time."

"You can antagonize all you like, McKay. I'm not leaving here until you tell me what's bugging you."

"Nothing's bugging me," Rodney shot back with venom.

"Liar," John accused. At least, Rodney thought he had, until Sheppard continued. "You've never been one. I've always counted on your honesty, your insight, though it'd be nice sometimes if it came in a prettier package." John waited for some kind of response. A very slight upturn of McKay's lips told him that his friend was still with him, and could still recognize the funny.

John Sheppard saw that as a very, very good sign.

John leaned in closer to his friend. "Seriously, Rodney, this cannot go on. Carson won't let you out of the infirmary like this, and neither Kate nor Carson will release you for missions. I need you to talk to me."

Rodney leaned back in his chair. John had moved way into Rodney's personal space and it was surprisingly uncomfortable to the scientist. That was disturbing on its own, considering how close they were, despite the severe clashes he and John had shared in the time they had known one another. The distance that he had purposefully put between himself and every other person on Atlantis since the Arcturus debacle, and particularly since his rescue, had not accomplished what he'd planned, despite everybody's apparent willingness to abide by his new rules. Everyone but Sheppard. Once again, his plan wasn't going to work. Talking things through with Hallucination Sam had helped him to survive his ordeal. Maybe he needed to take advantage of Sheppard's offer.

"I…um…" Rodney hesitantly began, unsure of just how to start.

"Take your time," John coaxed soothingly.

"I…I'm not shooting on all cylinders here," Rodney began again through an embarrassed grin. "Haven't been for a while, so it seems."

John narrowed his eyes at the admission, but refrained from commenting.

"I'm not sure you should count on my insight anymore. My judgment…it's off," Rodney said as he waved his hand up around his head. "Somehow," he added dejectedly.

"That's not true, Rodney," John countered firmly. "You've had a rough time lately. Your perception of yourself is being skewed by one mistake."

"It's not one mistake, John," Rodney stressed, the desperate tone making his voice crack. "Griffin's dead, or have you forgotten that?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Well?"

"Rodney, there's nothing that you could have done. It was seconds before the windshield was going to give. There was no time…"

"Griffin thought of something. I'm alive due to his quick thinking."

"Thank god!" John replied quickly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney asked with a mix of confusion and indignation.

"It means I'm glad you're sitting here with me. And that's all that it means. That doesn't make it any less upsetting that Griffin's gone."

"It makes it worse.!" Rodney shouted. "It's very upsetting. It's worse than upsetting. It's terrible and awful and wrong…it's so wrong."

"No it's not!" John yelled back. Rodney looked at John, eyes wide at the comment. "That's not what I meant. What do you mean by wrong?"

Rodney was sagging in his chair, the sadness - the misery of talking about this clear in the very essence of the man. Rodney looked up into John's eyes, into John's worried, caring eyes. He deserved to know.

"I was sure you wouldn't come," Rodney admitted softly. He wiped a tear from his cheek.

John was confused. "I'm here," he said, frowning.

"No. I mean…" Rodney sighed in frustration. "Yes, you are here. I meant, I didn't think you'd find me."

Oh, John thought. "That's okay, Rodney. It was awfully close."

"No," Rodney admonished miserably. John thought Rodney sounded like he was in pain, though this pain was not likely due to his concussion or lingering effects of near hypothermia. "I never thought that you would come. I was sure of it. I knew that I was on my own. I only had myself to rely on. Like always. There was no question in my mind." Rodney shook his head and let go an ironic laugh at the mess that was his mind currently. He breathed in a shuddering breath at his awful confession. "I knew in my mind that I was my only hope. That you weren't coming. I knew it!" He emphasized the last statement with a firm stab to his head with his finger. He winced slightly at the self-inflicted pain.

John sat, absorbing Rodney's admission. He was angry, livid at the situation. Angry at himself for his part in all of this, for he knew with certainty that he was culpable in how Rodney's confidence had spiraled of late. He was angry that the jumper hadn't been fixed properly in order to avoid the catastrophe that had brought on another loss of life. He was angry at Rodney's colleagues for not stepping up more and assuring McKay that he had people he could trust who cared for him and could always be counted on to watch his back.

But mostly, right at that moment, he was angry with Rodney McKay for not knowing that they would move mountains, overcome any obstacles and withstand any storm to save him. And John Sheppard would say these things to Rodney McKay. One day. But not this day. This day, Rodney needed to hear something else.

John took the hand that Rodney had used to slam into his head, clasping it warmly, and then pressed it over Rodney's heart and said, "That's because you were listening to the wrong organ, my friend."

Rodney blinked as tears welled in his sorrowful eyes.

"It was a bad day," Rodney McKay replied. Rodney's tears could not hold, the damn easily breached by John Sheppard's words. John grabbed the back of Rodney's neck and pulled him into an embrace. He rubbed his friend's back as Rodney cried out his anguish. John saw through his own blurred vision the bright sun heading to the ocean horizon reflecting off of the glassed walls of Atlantis. John thought it appropriate – maybe the sun was a reflection of the clarity Rodney needed to see his way beyond this horrible time.

Rodney pulled away first, sniffling and wiping the wetness from his face.

"Man, have I got a headache," he admitted with a weak laugh.

John rose and unlocked the brake on the wheelchair. He gave Rodney another warm grasp on the shoulder as he turned the chair toward the door.

"Yeah, but you feel better, right?" John asked.

Rodney laughed again, a little lighter this time, as they headed to the infirmary. He nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, I do."

They continued along the hallway. Rodney asked, "Do you have plans later?" He looked straight ahead, awaiting a reply.

John stopped pushing the chair and walked in front of it, kneeling before his favorite scientist. "I was thinking dinner, on me. A game of cards. A chat? How's that sound?"

Rodney lowered his eyes to his lap and then breathed in and out deeply. He looked back up, a pleased grin on his face.

"Sounds like a good plan."

The End.


End file.
